


One Apple A Day

by DiYunho



Category: DCU, Joker - Fandom, Joker Leto, Suicide Squad (2016), The Joker - Fandom, The Joker Jared Leto - Fandom, The Joker dcu - Fandom, joker DCU
Genre: Challenges, Children, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Special, Christmas Tree, Developing Relationship, Doctor/Patient, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Roller Coaster, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Fluff, Feel-good, Feelings, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Forbidden Love, Funny, Gotham City - Freeform, Hilarious, Joker (DCU) Played by Jared Leto, Joker - Freeform, Joker dcu - Freeform, Light Angst, Love/Hate, Medical Examination, Medical Procedures, Medical Professionals, Parenthood, Relationship(s), Sentimental, The Joker - Freeform, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, fake date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28076874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiYunho/pseuds/DiYunho
Summary: Being The Joker’s doctor is not an easy task, yet Y/N has fulfilled this difficult position for the past three years. With her employer out of commission this Christmas, life will be even more challenging since The Clown is recovering at her residence. The only present she truly needs is for him to disappear but who knows if Santa will grant her wish.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Reader, Joker (DCU)/You, Joker/Doctor, Joker/Reader, Joker/You, The Joker - Relationship, The Joker/Doctor, The Joker/Reader, The Joker/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	One Apple A Day

**Author's Note:**

> You can also follow me on Tumblr and Wattpad under the saem blog name: DiYunho.

December 4th

“Does it hurt when I do this?” you gently press your fingers on The Joker’s throat.

“No,” he mumbles.

“Take your shirt off Mister Joker,” Y/N tells the patient while grabbing the stethoscope.

The King of Gotham complies and you urge him to deeply inhale a few times.

“One more time Mister Joker,” you carefully listen to his lungs and then signal him it’s fine to put back his top.

“What’s the verdict, Doctor?”

“I can’t find anything worrisome; I’m thinking you might be a little bit under the weather. Nothing good rest and supplements can’t fix. Your daughter got over a cold, maybe you’re fighting the same bug. Do you still have trouble sleeping?”

“Occasionally,” he lies and you give him a sassy glare from under the glasses you elegantly lift on the nose with your pinky. “Spare me,” J growls and admits: “Periodically.”

“Do you need more medicine?”

“Maybe.”

Maybe in The Joker’s language is equivalent to definitely thus his physician reckons she’s able to decode her fussy patient due to previous endeavors. Since you’ve been the family doctor for the last 3 years one could say you’re accustomed to his shenanigans.

“I have pills in the car; I’ll return shortly,” you leave him on the sofa in the living room at his residence on Madison Avenue.

In the meantime, your 5 years old daughter Mia is playing with The Clown’s six years old offspring Emma: they sort of grew up together because you tend to The King’s health on a regular basis. The Joker doesn’t allow too many people around his kid thus employing a mother helped ensure a certain degree of normalcy for the Princess.

“I hope Santa brings me a pony for Christmas,” Emma braids Mia’s hair, adding details to her request: “And a mommy!”

“A pony and a mommy????”

“U-hum,” J’s little girl snickers. “I want both!”

“Me too,” your daughter giggles. “I want a pony and… and a daddy,” she pouts at the thought of not having another parent.

“You can ask my dad if he wants to be your dad,” the oldest claps with delight at her amazing idea. “I could ask your mom if she wants to be my mommy! She would live here and you don’t have to go home, we could play all the time!”

“Really?!” Mia excitedly jumps up and down, thrilled about Emma’s proposal.

“Yes! Adults go on a thing called date, then they kiss and then they get married,” the precocious mini- Joker shares with Mia. “I saw it in a movie!” she flares her arms in order to make a point. “Daddy invited over his…umm… his… ummm,” she tries to remember the word her father uses. “… His Booty Call and they watched a movie! They thought I was asleep but I wasn’t; I sat on the stairs and watched the movie also. That’s how I know!” she blurs out a bunch of stuff, most of it not making a lot sense.

“What’s a booty call??!” Mia curiously inquires.

“I think you call someone on the phone that wears boots,” Emma enlightens her younger friend while peeking at the hallway. “Come!” she urges. “Daddy’s on the couch, you can ask him now!”

Your daughter is dragged in front of The Joker contrary to her intention of running in the opposite direction: although she sees him on a regular basis, she’s afraid of The King of Gotham, yet the perspective of staying at Emma’s house forever makes her less susceptible to his intimidating appearance.

A fact that should be mentioned is that when she’s nervous, Mia mispronounces names: an interesting peculiarity Y/N finds adorable.

“Mister Jokel?” your daughter shily gulps. 

“Hm?” he glares at the two girls holding hands in front of him.

Emma snickers and Mia gathers her courage to lay it down for the oblivious Clown:

“Mister Jokel, do you want to be my dad?”

The mad man scratches his chin for a few seconds before cutting it short:

“Nope.”

Mia’s bottom lip quivers as Emma sniffles, heartbroken at her parent’s answer.

“What are you doing?” J frowns at the scene he didn’t guess he’ll be lucky enough to witness: your baby starts bawling her eyes out and Emma can’t help but crying even lauder, totally upset it didn’t go according to plan.

“Da-aa-aaddyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!” The Princess manages to say, immediately crawling on his lap; her face is getting redder by the moment while tears roll down the cheeks.

“Who died?” The Joker’s sarcasm doesn’t score high marks with the little girls; they continue to sob until you pop in the living room, startled by the noises.

Your patient is completely overwhelmed by the situation: he blankly stares at the ceiling, clueless on how to react in such circumstances.

“Mister Joker, what happened?” you rush to lift Mia in your arms and she buries her misery in your shoulder, wailing up a storm. “Sssttt, it’s ok, honey. Are you hurt?” you try to reason with her.

“She’s not hurt,” J replies instead.

“Did you upset the girls Mister Joker?! Did you say something to them?!” your increasing displeased attitude shakes him out of apathy.

“I didn’t,” he growls and you dig in your pocket for the vial.

“Here’s your medication, sir!” you slam the container on the table; as expected your condescendence doesn’t go well with him.

J reaches over to snatch an apple from the huge plate filled with fruits resting on the chair next to him, offering the token along with his bitterness.

“Take it and disappear!!”

You seem confused thus he barks:

“One apple a day keeps the doctor away, so take the damn apple and vanish!!! I don’t want you here!!” his rude lecture irritates the physician. You wished you could say a lot of things to his majesty The King of Insolence, yet Mia’s safety and yours are more important.

“I don’t need the apple, Mister Joker!” you mutter while soothing Mia on your way out: “Please stop crying honey.”

She’s weeping and talking and Y/N can barely distinguish what the problem is; it should bring a smile on your lips but the innocent plea couldn’t have landed on worse ears.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you kiss her forehead. “Please don’t ask Mister Joker that question again, ok?”

**************

December 20th -- 9:43pm

You tucked Mia in half an hour ago and it sounds your plans for a quiet night are ruined courtesy of the text message showing on your cell from Nixon, one of J’s henchmen:

“Get ready.

He got stabbed.”

Crap! you think because you know what it means: they are bringing The Joker over to your property against his will; not the first occurrence and positively not the last. Each time he refuses much needed medical attention is a real mess and dangerous to persuade him otherwise.

You tiptoe to the spare bedroom converted into ER ward months ago and fumble with supplies until your phone rings:

“Yes?” you quickly answer seeing Frost’s caller ID.

“We’re at the gates. What’s the new code?”

“27803,” you inform and stroll on the patio, slowly descending the path towards the five cars approaching your house. 

The vehicle in the middle halts, the window sliding down depicting a grouchy Clown prepared to commit another murder. 

“I said drive!” he snaps at Frost, absolutely pissed at his disobedience.

“Sir, you’re bleeding a lot; just let Y/N check the wound really fast!”

“Shut the fuck up and drive!” J takes the gun out of the holster and you exhale, frustrated.

“Mister Joker, can I take a look?”

The pistol is pointed at you now and his grave voice threatens:

“Stay away!”

“OK, OK. If you don’t want to, I won’t. Frost, can you take Mister J home?” you bend in order to spot Jonny. “Keep pressure on the laceration, alright?”

The Joker turns his head and that’s enough for the doctor: she slaps the gun out of his hand, promptly poking his arm with the syringe she prepared in advance: praised be whomever invented sedatives, or else she’d probably end up dead like the unfortunate bastard laying in the backseat of J’s SUV; he couldn’t escape the King’s fury.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna kill you all!” The Joker wheezes up a storm, appalled you had the nerve to cross him and defy orders. “I’m gonna…” and his eyelids are so heavy there’s nothing to do besides falling asleep.

“Can you guys carry him inside?” you address the crew members emerging from the cars. “Be careful, the snow is slippery,” you gesture at the immaculate coat of white flurries covering the ground.

**************

12:17am

You sterilize the equipment used in order to stitch The Joker’s nasty lesion, glad you managed to patch him up since he clearly would have bled enough to make his life miserable in the next days.

He was moved into a small bedroom downstairs and let to rest until the next morning; hopefully he’ll be in a better mood but knowing him… it’s not guaranteed. 

Suddenly, the faint clattering coming from the living room alerts Miss Mia is trying to open yet another of her presents before Christmas.

“Baby girl, it’s the middle of the night,” you admonish your child. “Why aren’t you in…” and Y/N swallows the rest of her sentence as a result of such stunning view. “…bed?!...”

Actually, the person disturbing the peaceful residence is not your munchkin but The Joker: he’s standing naked in front of the Christmas tree, hypnotized by the sparkly lights.

Holy Guacamole! How is he awake??! He’s sedated enough to doze off for hours!!

“Mister Joker!” you almost shout, annoyed he’s parading around in his birthday suit. “What are you doing?!”

“Are we in Paris?!” the ridiculous question arises.

“No Mister Joker, we’re not in Paris!”

Yup, he’s high as a kite.

“Are you taking me to...to…” he stutters because his scrambled brain is fighting to catch up with reality. “Are we going to Paris??!”

“No, we’re not going to Paris,” you mutter through your clenched teeth, wondering if you should punch the Christmas hat your employer is sporting; at least he bothered to snatch one from the pile you keep near the tree.

“Why not?!”

“You’ll get busted at the airport, Mister Joker! FBI is searching for you!”

“What for?!” the offended King puffs. “I’ve never done anything wrong EVER, in my life,” he shoves his index finger under your nose.

Surprisingly eloquent, you conclude, astonished his mind works on a superior level: a normal individual would snore for hours after the amount of tranquilizer you pumped into J’s veins.

“Mister J,” you hiss and change the subject. “Why are you naked?”

“I’m not,” he proudly shows you the hat. “It’s just too hot in here; I think I’ll go streaking. Are you coming?” the crazy invitation makes you cringe.

“Streaking?! It’s winter outside! You can’t keep your boxers on?!” the mother in you explodes. “Our girls are sleeping upstairs. What if they wake up and catch you like this?! It would be very traumatizing for the children!!” you try to whisper while taking your pink robe off your body and place it on his shoulders.

“Oh…” J has an epiphany and slides the Christmas hat off his green locks in order to cover his midsection. “Emma’s in Paris too?!”

“We’re not in Paris, Mister Joker!” Y/N’s composure is pushed to the limit. “You’re at my house! Your daughter had a tantrum because she wanted to see you so your team brought her over,” you guide him in the direction of his bedroom.

“Hey doctor, are we gonna have sex?” the blunt inquiry sparks controversy between the two parties.

“No, Mister Joker! We’re not gonna have sex!!!”

“Hmm…Ok,” the obedient Clown sulks at your rejection.

Even if he’s offended, this is one of the few instances he can take “no” for an answer.

He still demands an explanation:

“Why not?!”

“I don’t want to Mister Joker!” you snarl at his nonsense.

“Hmm…ok… Is that mistletoe?” his attention span jumps to a different topic.

“Yes.”

“Can I get a kiss?” this huge, boyish grin flourishes on his face. I mean, it’s not an over-the-top request, but what’s striking is that despite of him being out of it, he’s asking for permission each time he wants something intimate. “If you give me a kiss, I’ll cancel my trip to Paris,” he throws in an extra bonus, eagerly awaiting for the verdict.

“So generous of you. Maybe you should be sedated the whole year,” you mumble to yourself. “You’re easier to handle.” Then lauder: “Fine, Mister Joker. You can kiss me if that’s what it takes to convince you step into the bedroom.”

His eyes get big with anticipation at what he believes to be an innuendo.

“Are we gonna have sex???”

“No Mister Joker!!!” you lose your cool. “You have to go to sleep! Are you gonna kiss me or not??!!”

J gathers his strength then leans over, the lack of coordination making him miss the target: he ends up brushing his lips against your right cheek and blames you for the failure:

“S-stop moving!”

“I’m not moving, Mister Joker! Come on,” you drag him along and finally make it to your destination. “Let’s put your boxers on,” you help him with the garment and remove the robe, taking it back from him.

“I’m hot,” he complaints and you clarify:

“I administered a mixture of antibiotics, pain killer and sleep aid; plus you’re feverish because you have a pretty serious injury.”

“Is it pretty like you???” he gasps while you place him in bed.

“Wow,” you sigh. “What am I going to do with you, Mister Joker?”

“You could take me to Paris,” the hopeful patient suggests.

Here we go again.

“You can’t go to Paris Mister Joker.”

He is very upset now and only one thing left to do otherwise he won’t shut up.

“Do you want a kiss instead?”

“U-hum,” The Joker closes his eyes, waiting for the smooch and instantly snorts. “You pinched my butt; are we gonna have sex too?”

Yeah…you didn’t pinch his butt - there’s a syringe in there snatched from the nightstand since he wasn’t looking.

“Mister Joker, this is the maximum dose you can give someone without killing them. For the love of God, please fall asleep!” you retract the needle from his skin.

The Clown is not reacting, his eyelids still closed and waiting for the kiss. Might as well I suppose

“I think they’re on a date,” Emma elbows Mia since they’re both watching from behind the opened door; they were woken up by the clamoring you tried so hard to keep at a low level and came to search for their parents.

The Joker and his doctor are far from being on a date, yet stranger things have happened around Christmas.


End file.
